“Left half company commander to right half company commander—ammunition almost done; let us have more quickly,” and ordered the message to be passed to the right. In a few minutes he called up the right-flank man and asked for the message as he received it. The reply was:— “Ammunition all gone. God Save the King.” There was very little order for a few minutes after that. DOING HIS BIT Recruiting Sergeant—“Whose are these strapping youths, and why aren’t they in the army?” Farmer—“They be my sons, for sure.” Recruiting Sergeant—“Good heavens, man! Aren’t you doing anything for your country?” Farmer—“In coorse I am. I sends two eggs every week to the wounded soldiers at the horspital.” WELCOME PRISONERS A captain of Hussars gave a dinner to the men of his squadron the night before they left for the front. “Now, my lads,” he said, “treat this dinner as you will the enemy.” And they set to with a will. After dinner he discovered one of the men stowing away bottles of champagne into a bag, and, highly indignant, he demanded to know what he meant by such conduct. “I’m only obeying orders, sir,” said the man. “Obeying orders!” roared the captain; “what do you mean, sir?” “You told us to treat the dinner like the enemy, sir, and when we meet the enemy, sir, those we don’t kill we take prisoners.” HE KNEW THE ANSWER One of the best stories of regimental life told by General Sir Archibald Hunter, the commander of England’s third new army, concerns a certain “Tommy” who was more noted for his wit than his scholarship. The man’s grammar and spelling were simply awful, and Sir Archibald was trying to teach him the King’s English. “I don’t believe you know what w-o-m-a-n spells,” said he to the uneducated soldier on one occasion. “Trouble as a rule, sir,” replied “Tommy,” with a grin. Hunter was so amused that he was quite unable to reprimand the man for his “cheek.” A JOKE IN THE TRENCHES “Can anny av yer tell me why the Scots are the most humane sojers at the front?” asked the Irish sergeant, as he set light to his pipe. “We give it up,” came the ready response from the boys just returned from the trenches. “Why, it’s bekase they always carry their kilt aff the field.” HE KNEW WHERE IT WAS The drill instructor passed his hand wearily across his forehead. He had been breaking in some raw recruits and instructing them in the elements of company drill. The majority were intelligent fellows, and found no difficulty in obeying his instructions; but one, in particular, did not seem able to understand even a simple order. At last, losing his temper, the drill instructor determined to bring him to his senses by holding him up to ridicule. Calling him to the front he proceeded to put him through his paces. “Eyes front!” he roared. To everybody’s astonishment the recruit gazed absent-mindedly about him. “Do you mean to say,” bellowed the instructor, “that you do not know where your front is?” “Yes, I know, sir,” he replied.